Seven signs
by Melancholy's Sunshine
Summary: Seven signs of running. As demonstrated by our resident speedster. The good Mr. Flash.


Sweating- Sunday

Every human did it. Sweat. Aliens did it too. Some of them at least. John knew from working with aliens all over the universe. Though what made him think of this? He guessed it was the runner that had just come through and stopped for some lemonade that two girls were selling eagerly.

He was only looking in the first place because he could've sworn he had heard Flash laughing. It wouldn't be the first time Flash visited unexpectedly. But he wasn't there. It was times like this he was curious about his annoying friend's identity.

"One more lemonade please," he heard the voice say. It sounded so similar to Flash's. But the voice was calmer. More relaxed than his spastic watchtower and hero friend, "And a towel if you don't mind."

A towel was thrown rudely into his face. John frowned. Why did kids act like that?

"Thanks!" he said enthusiastically drying his face. Once he was done with his cup he began running. And John mentally said goodbye to the red haired runner.

Spitting- Monday

Diana had trained her entire life to be a warrior. She had learned many of the _unsavory_ habits that a warrior might get over time. But this one that she was watching now was up in the strangest. Why was a man spitting? He hadn't eaten anything. He had just stopped running and started to spit.

Being from a land of all women, this man confused her. He wasn't dressed in jeans and a shirt. He was in shorts and had an undershirt on. He had a band across his forehead made of cloth and something similar around his wrist. His hair was a fiery red.

"Excuse me," said Diana walking up to him, "Why are you… spitting?"

The man looked at her. Blue eyes into green eyes. She hardly expected eye contact from someone other than a fellow hero.

"Have a bad taste in my mouth. Just now kind of noticed it though," he said spitting again. He shrugged his shoulders, "All part of running I guess."

"You guess?"

"Hey. May I ask you a question?" he asked.

"You already are," she said. He gave a sheepish smile.

"Do you know where in the world we are?"

"Excuse me?"

"I've been running for a while and I kind of got lost. If you could just tell me where we are that would be great."

"You're in New York City. Where are you…?"

"Thanks!" he said running off. She chuckled a bit. She thought only Flash could be so dense.

Puking- Tuesday

Clark was leaving work on a fairly calm day. No villains. No end of the world that seemed to happen every other month. No annoying Flash calls. No broody Bat calls. No. It was just a quiet day.

Until his over sensitive ears heard someone getting sick. It wasn't something he was custom to hearing in Metropolis. But whoever was getting sick was loud. He would ignore it like so many other people. But his Ma and Pa raised him better than that. He inwardly sighed and went to find the sick person. It didn't take long with his "exceptional" hearing.

He came up to a man, younger than himself throwing up in a corner street trashcan. One paid for by Lex Luthor no doubt. The man lifted his head slowly. He stood up and coughed.

"Didn't think that was still possible," he muttered. He reached into his pocket for something.

"Are you alright?" Clark asked. The man looked at him. Bright vibrant green eyes that looked like they should have been on a child stared back at him.

"Yeah. I'm fine," he said pulling out a napkin. He wiped his mouth and threw it away in the trash can as well. He looked at Clark.

"Dude, are you some body builder in a suit?" he asked. Clark raised his brow, "Seriously. Most guys in suits I've seen are fat."

"What are you talking about?" Clark asked. The runner shrugged his shoulders.

"Stuff I guess. Can't really focus on much. Gotta run!" he said taking off.

"Wait! Aren't you sick?" he yelled. The runner pivoted to look at him.

"Nope!" he cried turning back around to run. Clark stood for a minute. He was almost as strange as the Flash himself. Almost.

Blowing Snot Rockets- Wednesday

Shayera was not one to visit planet side unless there was some bad guy she could use as a punching bag or the earth really needed her. Or sometimes a date with John but that was beside the point. She came down to earth one day and was watching over the people below as they ran around the city. Well not run so much as walk. She landed on a roof where she had a good view of the town.

"Hang on a sec," she heard one voice say below. Bored out of her mind she looked down. A man about twenty or more years hit his chest and coughed a bit. Then spit something out. He ran up to a group of people who were ahead.

"Gross man."

"Hey. You try running with flem blocking your airways," he said.

"Still a nasty snot rocket."

"Either I swallow or spit. Either way it's gross."

Shayera shook her head. _Humans._

Blisters- Thursday

J'onn was an alien. He knew that. He knew that many others that he worked with in the Watchtower were aliens to. But a fair number were human. Humans with some human issues and problems.

He grew curious about them. They were living on the planet he was now considering home. They were different. Though he was able to see many differences, one difference he did not know about he found out about while he was visiting earth.

He was in his human disguise so he would not frighten any human by accident. He was walking when he saw a man hopping over to a bench. He seemed rather childish. He couldn't have been over twenty one. He had messy red hair and electric green eyes. He hopped idiotically onto a bench and removed his shoe. J'onn would be lying if he said he wasn't the least bit curious. He saw him reach into his pocket and pull something out. He stared at it almost straining his eyes. A band-aid. Flash carried them around the Watch tower to make a "boo-boo" go away.

Funny, the bandage was a Flash one. A bright red with a familiar yellow bolt. He placed it on the arch of his foot where a patch of white loose skin was located. He smiled once it was placed firmly on. He slid his sock and shoe on before running. J'onn's face remained as stoic as ever. Maybe he'd ask someone about that later.

Blood Draws- Friday

Batman stood in the Watch Tower medical room waiting patiently (well… he wasn't too happy) for Flash to arrive. He had to do routine check-ups with many of the doctors. Though Flash was difficult for many of the doctors. He would often times go off on a topic and get out of doing whatever was needed for the check-up. What he needed should have been simple. A blood draw to make sure his levels were normal.

Though Flash would always have chaotic levels based on when he had last eaten. Typically people would fast, but Flash couldn't fast with his metabolism. Making it difficult. Even harder when he wasn't there. He mentally sighed as he went to go look for Flash.

Eat Like A Pig- Saturday

The founders had a table that rarely anyone else would sit at. It was in the cafeteria. Now there was no rule about who sat there, but no one felt safe going to that table unless invited by a founder. But the only one who ate there regularly was Flash. He often times invited people to eat with him. New recruits. Anyone really. But the table was almost always covered with food or wrappers or dirty trays. It was amazing how fast it would change for a person who never has seen the Flash's voracious appetite.

"Mind if we join you?" asked a voice. Flash looked up and smiled and the marine.

"I don't see why not," he grinned and then devouring food to make room for John and Shayera.

"I swear you could eat a whole marine battalion's food supply," John said. No matter how many times he had seen Flash eat he could not believe how much he ate. But Flash rolled his eyes (at least he assumed with the way his cowl moved) and continued eating.

"It's all part of running John. If there is anything real big about running is that a good amount of people eat like a pig later."

"Well as long as you're not getting fat," Shayera joked. Flash smiled.

"Metabolism's got it covered," he said happily, "Besides, what my metabolism doesn't get rid of I sweat off."

John didn't know why, but the red haired runner he had met earlier that week popped into his mind. Enthusiastic, playful, kind. But it couldn't be.

"So anything interesting happen this past week Flash? Superman and Batman did kind of force you to take a vacation," Shayera said eating her meal. Flash put his hand on his chin as though he were deep in thought.

"Well, I ran a lot…"

John snorted.

"… and while I was running I saw some interesting people," he said.

"When do you not?" asked Shayera.

"No joke. I saw a woman who looked just like Di, and some guy in glasses and a suit who looked like Superman. Oh, and I kind of ran from Batman for my blood draw," he said simply.

"You need to stop doing that Flash. Everyone here gets a blood draw to see if there is anything that shouldn't be in our systems," said John.

"Yeah yeah. And when a person pukes because they aren't feeling good _that_ is healthy too," he said digging into his food once more.

"Like you would know," said Shayera. Flash cocked a brow.

"Contrary to popular belief I was once a normal human. And even though I am a speedster now I can still throw up. Heck I threw up earlier this week," he laughed. John and Shayera just ignored the comment. There was no way he could throw up was there?

"You normal? I would love to see that," John joked. Flash zipped off and came back putting a photo in John's hand and then continued on his eighth serving of food. In the picture was a small red haired boy with bright green eyes wrestling in the grass with a blond man.

"Who's this?" John asked as Shayera took the picture.

"Never pegged you for a blond," she said.

"Good. Cause that's the Flash before me. I'm the red head," he said between bites. John looked back at the photo. Sure enough he had the same smile that Flash usually sported. Big, bright and always seemed to be there.

"That was when I was normal. Before I got my powers."

"You… acquired them? How?" asked Shayera. He zipped off for a second and came back with about half the food in the cafeteria.

"Experiment. And proof that I was normal," he scoffed digging into fluffy mashed potatoes.

"Alright. So you had a normal vacation?" John asked.

"Yep. Sweating, spitting, puking, blowing snot rockets, getting blisters, drawing blood and eating like a pig," he said simply.

"No running?" John joked.

"Dude, seven signs of a runner. Not all are seen but a good amount of them are. Heck, all of them for me," he said.

"Right," said Shayera sarcastically as he went back to engulfing the mass of food on the table.

**I saw these written on the back of cross country shirts and I was compelled. **

**And I have run before. I did track for two years before I dubbed myself more of a writer than a runner.**

**So questions about what's posted? Let me know. I know some of them. But this came from the back of a shirt. I'm going with it.**


End file.
